When old lives die
by LouiseWolff
Summary: Sam's observations about life after Yamatai.
1. Steel

**After finished the most recent Tomb Raider game (which was, ironically, the first I had ever played of the series) I was struck by curiousity about how the survivors would feel about their adventure. So, I just started writing with no plan what exactly I was going to do, and voila! The result. Let me know what you think.**

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She's skin stretched over steel. Even her eyes, once so eager and alive, are now cold and hard. She's all steel. Nicked, scratched bent and broken steel, mechanic. She's alive till the sun sets, dead when the moon rises.

The first time I saw it, a scary thought came into my mind. The thought that not three of us, but four died on that island. Because this was no longer her. This was a robot with her face, its only goal staying alive. Nothing more.

Even when she looks at me, the one she said she did it all for, there's no light in her eyes. I shudder to think of her hardships, the things she was forced to do for me. She told me it was all me. I'm still not sure if she blames me or uses me as an excuse. Or, maybe, she's telling the truth, and she sacrificed herself for me. In a sense.

That's what scares me the most. Because I will never be able to repay her. I will never be able to look at her the same way, not while we're still haunted by the past.

When I lie awake in bed, because sleep never seems to come, I whisper to her forbidden things. Things she shouldn't hear but I still imagine she does. Things of pain, wishes, 'could have beens'. I ask her why she's dead inside. Are her scars so deep? Is the old Lara still somewhere in there? Are our lives not enough?

But she never answers. Just stares at me with those dead eyes.


	2. Frost

I'm always cold lately.

Himeko's soul... God, she was as cold as death itself. So cold the blizzard around me felt like a light summer breeze.

Some part of me wonders if I really didn't die there. Frozen to death before Himeko could sink her claws into my soul. Hit by a stray bullet as Lara fought Mathias.

Whenever she looks at me it's like she's looking through me, you see. Like I'm not there. She doesn't smile anymore, not even with relief when she sees I'm safe like she used to.

I wonder if Himeko took a piece of Lara's soul too when she jumped between me and that horrible abomination of a body.

But I guess I won't know until she's ready to talk. Being her, I'm not sure I'd ever be.

All I can do is care for her, smile for her, live for her, and wait for that spark to come back in her eyes.


	3. Cracks

She's strong, Lara. I know she is. She knows she is. She just... I think she hates that she is now.

She hasn't even cried. Not even when her wounds were disinfected. God, those wounds. I can't believe she's still alive! I'd have collapsed ages ago. And they're all my fault. Every bruise, scratch, cut, bullet wound, broken bone and burn is my fault. She keeps saying it isn't, that she got them before saving me, or that it was worth it.

Nobody's worth that much.

She says I kept her sane, kept her going.

I could have killed myself right there and then.

I had let myself get captured for god's sake! Yes, Lara got us there but we knew the dangers! We knew we were taking a risk! Still she blames herself, that's about the only emotion I can sometimes see breaking through those steel eyes; guilt.

It makes me want to slap her and hug her at the same time. Maybe bawl my eyes out on her shoulder too.

I don't deserve her.

She would hit me for even thinking that, heh. It'd sure be a nice change, angry Lara instead of stoïc Lara...

I miss her.

I miss the old us.


	4. Change

**Thank you so much for the follows, favs and the awesome reviews! They make my day, honestly. :)**

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The first time I set foot on shore, I felt this weird sense of relief and absolute terror at the same time. Lara did too, I think. The expression on her face was harder than usual, and that says something.

It's just... on the boat we were safe. No-one could get to us. Our own little island, if you will. And now we were out on the open again, everyone could reach us, anything could happen.

When medical personnel came to pick us up, I was afraid Lara would go crazy, that she would scream and fight and run as strangers' hands guided her away.

But she didn't.

She took my hand and waited, face blank, for them to come. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't pry my hand free. Her grip was absolute, not meant to be let go.

I think it reassured her as much as it did me, maybe even more.

I had never really noticed before, but her hands used to be soft, slender. They were rough and warm now, full of cuts and scrapes, twitching ever so often.

She looks at them sometimes and I can almost see her wondering. 'Are these the hands of a killer?'


End file.
